


i forget where we were

by jimkrk



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Lots of Angst, M/M, The Saddest Man In The World Got Even Sadder ! u wont believe what happened to him !, Unrequited Love, also excuse me i was piss drunk while writing this so idk if it makes sense, but anakin is a fucko, its from obi wans point of u so... angst comes along naturally..., its set in the normal world?? like... on earth, mentions of anakin being a painter because thats what i live for, obi wan really loves anakin????, one day i'll write a fic where obi wan is happy but today is not that day, this fic also doesnt have a happy ending lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 00:38:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6400528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimkrk/pseuds/jimkrk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been almost a year since Anakin broke up with Obi-Wan.<br/>It’s been almost a year and in that time, Obi-Wan hasn’t healed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i forget where we were

It’s late and it’s the third time the café’s playlist repeats itself. He’s been here too long, he thinks. His body isn’t responding, his gaze is fixed on the cup of green tea on the table in front of him. It must be cold by now.   
He spent an hour wishing he hadn’t poured so much milk into his tea. It had resembled Anakin’s favourite colour at first, the one he’d painted his room in, the one that he would try to use most in his paintings. Obi-Wan remembers quick brush strokes across paper, flowers in his hair, flowers across his whole body and holding still for what seemed like an eternity. He remembers Anakin's embarrassed smile when he'd asked him to model for him. Now, the colour looked too pale.   
When the barista, Padmé, a beautiful girl with dark hair and bright eyes, looks at him, he silently wonders how much longer he can get away with just sitting there, staring at his tea and not daring to drink it.   
Then on his luck, someone enters the café and Padmé turns her attention to the potential costumer. He almost allows himself to zone out again for a while, when he hears a voice he recognizes.  
“When are you closing tonight?” The voice asks.  
“When he leaves.” She pauses. “‘s been here for two hours and it looks like he’s not intending to leave any time soon.” Padmé answers.   
“Oh, alright. I was just worried about you, so I decided to drop by and pick you up.”  
Obi-Wan feels like he’s clearly interrupting something, so he takes five dollars out of his jacket and neatly places them next to the cup of tea. He gets off his chair in one rather pitiful looking motion and turns to the counter to say goodbye, simply out of habit. He’s smiling and. And.  
And the world ends.  
That’s Anakin.  
That’s Anakin fucking Skywalker and Anakin is standing in Obi-Wan’s favourite café right now, standing at the counter in a peach jumper that looks too big on him and he’s got those black trousers he always wears and he’s got his Docs on and he’s skinnier than Obi-Wan remembers and his hair’s longer than Obi-Wan’s ever seen it, feathered and fluffy and swept over his forehead, and he’s got sharper cheekbones and he’s looking skinnier and smaller and sadder and—  
And it’s Anakin.  
His blood thickens, stops flowing instantly.  
He’s going to be sick. Something sharp is being rammed into his abdomen and he’s going to be sick.  
Anakin.  
And Anakin’s looking at him, at Obi-Wan, something stricken and horrified and terrified written across his face, and his eyes are unblinking and rimmed in tension, screaming regret and he’s not looking away from Obi-Wan.  
He looks wrong. He doesn’t look golden and vibrant and thrumming like Obi-Wan remembers.

“I guess I should’ve waited,” is what Anakin says, still not looking away from him. And he’s so, so present. Right fucking there. And altered—not meeting any of the images inside of Obi-Wan.  
This is wrong.  
This is all wrong.  
This is a name contrasting with an image and an image contrasting with Obi-Wan’s entire making.  
Never has Obi-Wan known a world where, upon seeing Anakin, he hasn’t completely swept him up.   
But here he is, his Anakin, and he’s can’t touch or kiss or caress him and he can’t say anything, he can’t even say his name.  
It’s all wrong and Anakin is here and a lifetime of habit and instinct fills Obi-Wan’s skull and feet and heart and hands, screaming at him to stride over to Anakin and swallow him whole, wrap his much-taller frame up inside of his limbs and press his lips to any bit of flesh that he can find first. “I’ve missed you, are you okay, did you lose weight, is everything alright, where have you been, I’ve missed you, I love you, I love you, I love you, remember that time you broke up with me, don’t do that ever again, I was lost without you, I love you, I miss you, I wanted to marry you and do you still have that ring I gave to you when I proposed and your sweater doesn’t smell like me” is what he wants to say. That’s what he would say.  
Obi-Wan’s never had to hold himself back from Anakin. Anakin’s always made Obi-Wan brighter, more confident, just more of himself. Obi-Wan’s never locked anything away because with Anakin he never hesitated to hold back everything that he possessed, everything that he seemed to always feel so much.  
But he’s holding it back now, trying to ram the weight of his body against a door in his soul and keep the flood safely locked away. He’s shaking with the effort, water seeping through the cracks. But he’s got to hold it back.

“Anakin, love? What’s wrong?” Padmé asks him, reaching out to touch his arm.  
Anakin frowns, because it’s been a year and Obi-Wan should’ve moved on by now, but he can’t. “Nothing.” He breaks eye-contact and turns his back towards Obi-Wan. “He just seemed familiar.”  
That’s enough to make his eyes fill with tears.   
He rushes out of the café because he can’t handle it, it’s just too much. Nearly blinded by his tears, he gets in his car, but doesn’t start the motor. He’s one thousand percent sure that he’s going to be hung up on this boy forever. He’s sure that he’s going to spend the rest of his life pulling inspiration from his memories, these memories, and the quiet whispers of these feelings. And he’s going to always, always come back to Anakin Skywalker because that’s where it starts and that’s where it ends for Obi-Wan.  
And that’s… That’s okay.  
That’s just how it is, isn’t it? And love isn’t love without being selfless, so… So if anything else, he’ll always know that he truly, truly loved Anakin when he let him go. Loves Anakin.  
Obi-Wan knows that it isn’t wrong.  
And it’s that, and only that, that lets him step away from him, nodding quietly to himself because it’s final and because it’s goodbye and because he’s letting Anakin go. The very makings of his bones are splintering, his soul is being spliced and severed and ripped and it’s a cold sense of dread that drips down his spine because he doesn’t know what’s going to happen to him, but he knows this is him loving Anakin because this is him stepping away.  
Yet, he misses Anakin, he misses him like mad.

He sees his reflection in the rear view mirror and inhales sharply. He’s sniffling, his eyes are burning and itchy, his tears are too hot.   
This is what he looked like after their last fight, and nearly every day after that. It all went downhill from there and then Anakin was gone, out of his life.   
He remembers all of it so vividly. How they yelled at each other, how Anakin packed his stuff, how Anakin walked out of their flat, how Anakin hadn’t called or texted him again after that, how he sat on the kitchen floor, his back against the cold wall, trying to make himself as small as possible. He had realized it was over when he realized that for Anakin, there was only black and white. Anakin either loved with burning passion or hated with fiery rage. There was no grey.  
Obi-Wan asks himself what’s life without the one you love the most? What’s life without Anakin? Without his sun, his first love?

 

Many days passed by, many weeks passed by, many months passed by, he never got the answer.  
Sometimes he feels as if he’s not even a person anymore, he feels as if he’s just a shadow of himself, a shell, a body that can’t seem to feel anymore.  
It terrifies him.  
He has boyfriends and girlfriends, but none of them stays with him for longer than two months. It’s because he simply hasn’t met the right person yet, he tells himself. He goes to parties and drinks a little too much each time, dancing with people whose faces he forgets in a matter of days.   
He sees Anakin around more often now, he sees him with his girlfriend, laughing happily. After all this time Anakin still has something about him that draws Obi-Wan in, even though he lost his golden glow and the thrumming energy that seemed to surround him at all times way back when they were together.

Obi-Wan wishes he could turn back time to give Anakin all he had, all the love he still feels for him. He wishes he hadn’t been selfish and spent all of his time with Anakin, instead of working all the time.   
He wishes it hadn’t been him repeating a mantra of “I’ll call you later, I’ll call you later, I’ll call you later.”  
He wishes it hadn’t been him who didn’t call.  
He wishes the hole in his heart could just go away and he wishes he didn’t love Anakin so fucking much but then again, how couldn’t he?  
He wishes Anakin’s girlfriend holds him when he can’t sleep and gives him all her hours, and she does.   
He wishes he could be the one who does it, wishes he could just have a second chance.   
Obi-Wan knows he doesn’t deserve it, yet he gets his phone and unlocks it. His thumb hovers over Anakin’s contact, but he doesn’t dare to press it. For a while, he just looks at the picture of Anakin he set for his contact. It’s a picture of him smiling and with the memory of taking it, a wave of missing him crashes over Obi-Wan. Like drowning, he thinks. This is like drowning.  
He remembers that that smile had been caused by him. Anakin had probably smiled a lot today, but Obi-Wan knows that it’s no longer caused by him.  
He carefully sets his phone down again and shuts his eyes. 

He doesn’t think he will find someone else, he probably never will. Anakin was his one and only, but no longer His.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading my dudes,, i hope u enjoyed this sack of shit fic i wrote in less than an hour while being piss drunk !   
> the title is the one of a song by ben howard which doesnt fit the fic at all i just really like it so yea 10/10 would recommend that song


End file.
